Slipping Into The Airwaves
by ImagineDragonzzz
Summary: Fifteen years after the events in LOTF, the boys - now men - are summoned back to the island after a body washes up on the beach of a Costa Rican beach. Will they all return or not? Old ghosts re-surface and new problems arise! And was the Beast really just in their minds? Read and review please!
1. Ralph

**Slipping Into The Airwaves **

I own nothing except my OCs!

_So, here I am with a cheeky, brand spanking new fic! It's kind of a crossover between Lord Of The Flies (William Golding) and IT (Stephen King) but I'm not going to put it as a crossover story because only the idea of the boys, who are now coming back as men, has anything in common with King's novel. This is also my first LOTF fic so no harsh reviews please? Remember, if you don't like don't read, but constructive reviews are always welcome! Enjoy ;D_

**Beast In Air, Beast In Water **

"_**And you can paint your face here any colour you like, cuz there's a divide between this world and a weariness of our old one." – Snowmine**_

RALPH

"Ralph, it's nine thirty, you said you'd be out of there over an hour ago and probably an hour or two before that!" Stella, leaned against the door to the computer room, occasionally drumming her finger nails on it to be annoying. "I'm hungry," she whined, "dinner was ready half an hour ago!" A shuffling came from inside the room and an aggravated Ralph stepped out of it. "Okay, I'm here now," he said sarcastically.

Not to get you wrong, Ralph and Stella were very much in love and got married two years ago, after only dating for six months. But right now, as each other's careers were sky rocketing neither was sleeping, both were constantly agitated and the only form of entertainment was either watching funny man Maurice Taylor's comedy talk show or flicking through Bill Jay's piss taking column in Times Magazine.

Ralph and Stella sat in the dining room and started to swirl the spaghetti on their forks. "I was reading the changes to the screenplay, you know," Stella said, "and I have to say that it's so much better than the crummy lyrics I'm getting for my songs." Ralph smirked a little. "Well, it's not like your agent agrees," he said with a small mouthful of spaghetti.

"Actually," Stella began, with a hint of arrogance, "I suggested that the company should read your poems and things, you know the really dramatic emotive ones, to show that you should be writing the lyrics for the movie's soundtrack." Ralph put down his fork. "Yeah, but the thing is Stella, I'm not a lyricist; never have been, never will be. Certainly got no interest in becoming one," he huffed.

Stella just rolled her eyes. "Tsch! It's not like we need the money or anything but I'm just trying to portray you as the man with many talents – you never know when one of us may find ourselves out of work and needing a job." Ralph glared at his wife for bringing up the subject of potential unemployment.

"Ok then, Stella, tell me –" He was cut off by the persistent ringing of the landline phone. Stella cleared her throat, "I'm either asleep or not in, but if it's the agency I'm all ears." Ralph laughed. "Oh get you! The girl's got an agent!" he mocked as he strutted into the living room and picked up the phone. He was surprised to find himself on the receiving end of a police woman.

"Is this Ralph Remington?" she asked. "Yup, this is he," Ralph replied. "My name is Detective Lieutenant James," not police woman, but detective said, "and I have some news which may or may not greatly impact you." Ok, now Ralph was interested; his life may be one of turbulence, but he'd never really had a detective call him before. "I'm listening," Ralph said.

"Well, earlier this week, Costa Rican authorities got in touch with the Western authorities, which already in itself is a bit abnormal, but they said that a half decomposing body had been washed up on the beach. Holiday goers discovered it early one morning and needless to say were given quite a shock. All kinds of rumours are circulating, maybe the work of a killer or maybe some horrible accident."

Costa Rico. Ralph hadn't thought of that place in years, not that he'd have known it when he was a boy. They didn't know where they were really. He'd only heard a Naval Officer talking about it to a group of Littluns. Littluns. That was a word Ralph Remington hadn't thought of nor spoken in years either.

"Yeah, that sure does sound weird, but what's it got to do with me?" Ralph gulped; he knew certain things about that island, not all the memories clear, but enough to know some of the secrets. The detective continued, "Well, we have records of you and a group of boys having been on that island at an early point in your life and we have an account actually form you of two deaths, and one missing."

Ralph had to grip the phone tightly to prevent it slipping from his sweaty grip and practically fell into the sofa. Weird images of a boy with a painted face came to mind, a boy who held a pair of broken glasses in one hand and a spear in other. But even this was fairly foggy.

"uh huh, I understand," Ralph mumbled down the phone, "and yeah I do remember saying that. But what happens now?" He felt as if he may already have a sneaky suspicion of what was required of him. "Well," the detective woman began again, "it's going to be difficult to transport the body found, because well, when the authorities moved it into a private bay, the body was found in the same place that it had washed up. Crazy huh?"

Nothing could really surprise Ralph anymore, but he agreed it was crazy. "The best thing to do, because some of the locals are worried about this kind of happening, is to keep it on the island but get a confirmation of the identity of the body. I'm saying that it might be worth you coming over here to check it out for yourself."

Ralph felt sick and dizzy and fatigue all at once. He wasn't thinking straight and absentmindedly said, "Yeah, yeah, sure I'm already there." I needed a vacation at some point anyway, he thought cynically to himself. He then cursed himself mentally for thinking such a thing. He discussed a few transportation details with detective, said thanks and good bye before hanging up.

But then another thought hit him. This thought made him weak at the knees and queasy throughout his whole body. If the detective had told him about this, what if she'd tracked down the others? Ralph quickly put this thought to the back of his mind and ran upstairs to pack a suitcase. Once packed he stomped down the stairs with it and faced Stella at the dinner table.

"I have to go somewhere," he said bluntly. Stella stared at him and laughed a little. "Go? But your in the middle of writing a screenplay – Ralph, you look pale, are you OK?" She got up and tried to caress his cheek, but he pulled away – he didn't want to get attached to the idea of security and staying put at this moment. "Look, it's hard to explain but I really have to go," Ralph said. He strode away from Stella who had begun to work herself into a hysterical state at her husband's unease.

Ralph ignored Stella's pleas to stay put or her demands to where he was suddenly rushing off to, but he did kiss her, and then hugged her tightly. In that moment, she was the most beautiful thing to him ever. But what was strange was how she reminded him of a strange, dark haired boy. A strange boy who kept to himself, but still supported Ralph. Unfortunately, Ralph couldn't quite place his name, Sam or Simeon or something.

Ralph left the house in Los Angeles, got into his car and drove off, leaving Stella in a frantic mess at the front door of the house.


	2. Jack

**Slipping Into The Airwaves **

I own nothing except my OCs!

_Nothing much to say here really, as in no drabbles or author's notes. So on with the next chapter my lovelies! ;D _

**This One**

"_**This one's for money, this one's for love, this one's for taking everything that I dreamed of." – Snowmine **_

JACK

"Hello, Minor and Major," answered the cute receptionist, "oh, ok then, I'll let him know. Is he your direct agent?" She drummed her finger nails over her work top. "Ah right, yes I will see he gets the message right away the. Thank you, bye."

The receptionist, Katie, pushed herself from her desk on her wheelie chair and got up. Her feet were killing her from the ridiculously high and pointy stilettos her boss insisted the women here wear. He said it made them look more refined, but Katie and a lot of the other girls knew that was bull. Her boss had a reputation for being a womanizer – in fact he was one of the most notorious in New York's big business circle.

A refined upper class English man, everyone thought he was the straight laced stereotype. But then people who had climbed to the top of the business ladder tended to have their secrets and this was a man of many. Katie stood outside of his office and entered without permission. Her boss didn't mind. He actually quite liked her, and she'd noticed. Although she wasn't exactly a man-eater, people had said she was cute, pretty. But not the model type or particularly desirable, as in the wife of a Wall Street man. But she was liked none the less.

"Jack," she started, "Stella Remington wrung just now, and a bit of bad news for you." Her boss, now known as Jack, put down his coffee and lifted his head from his newspaper. "Huh?" he said casually. "Stella Remington. That novelist's wife or something. She's pulled out of doing the soundtrack that this company's producing for that film." Jack raised an eyebrow. He chewed on the inside of his mouth a little before getting up and closing the door, leaving the two inside his spacious office.

"Bollocks to that!" he exclaimed, "does the woman know how much I've invested in her and she thinks I will still keep her after this? Uh uh, no way, she is off the books! And after all the time and money she's wasted me, I will see to it she'll find no luck in being signed to any other labels or agencies in either NY or LA!" His face had gone a little red and his fists were clenched. But Katie was used to his outbursts.

"Ok then," Katie said, about to make her exit. "Oh and Jack, you had another call from Detective Lieutenant James or Jameson or something, I wrote it down, but she seemed eager to speak to you about something, so if you could call her back? I entered her number into the system for you," Katie smiled. Jack smiled back – her smile was one you just had to answer. He couldn't help it, it was so genuine.

"Well look how much you've grown," Jack said in reply. It was true; Katie had started out as an amateur hopeful would be singer songwriter herself, but couldn't get work. She'd got an internship at Minor and Major, but was terrible to start off with. But when she found herself finding her boss attractive she wanted to impress him and for him to notice her. And notice her he did; she found herself a new look, knuckled down to her work, and was eventually given the job as Jack Stanger's personal secretary for his own personal multi-billion dollar company.

The one thing she'd pretty much let go of was not her sanity but dreams of making it in the music business, but to her it was worth it, because Jack liked her and constantly found a means of giving her a raise. Which was weird in itself – Jack Stanger had never been the giving type. He was a man who would take and take and then some.

Once she'd left the room, Jack opened up the files in his directory and called Scotland Yard. "Must be a Brit," he thought. "Ah, yes, hello, I'm Jack Stanger of Minor And Major; my receptionist said that you were trying to reach me," he said in his typical charming business man kind of way. It was safe to say that the Detective on the other end of the phone was already impressed with his stately manner, but then Jack Stanger always had a way with words.

As the Detective explained the situation, Jack found himself melting back into his chair. "Uh huh, mmm, I see," were the main components of his responses. However, unlike Ralph, he had kept a level head whilst speaking about this matter. On hanging up, Jack Stanger stood up, straightened his tie and left his office in a rush.

Apart from the phone call, the hurried packing and direct trip to New York's JFK Airport, it had been a pretty normal day.


	3. Roger

**Slipping Into The Airwaves **

I own nothing except my OCs!

_In case you may or may not have noticed, Jack's surname in the last chapter is different to the one in the book. Just saying I haven't lost the plot; it's all intentional, I promise. But all will be revealed soon! ;D _

**You Really Did It**

"_**If you're not careful you'll become the devil in disguise but watch your back, you watch your back." – Jason Mraz**_

ROGER

And yet again, the band Third Time Done had scored their second consecutive hit single in only two moths since the last one. They may not have been so surprised if it hadn't been only their debut album and had released many before. But the truth of the matter was the critics had previously crapped over the new alternative rock band to grace iTunes and were now, in the band's delight, eating their words.

This could've pleased none other than Roger Redman. He'd always been one who'd believed in Karma; in this case the papers had given them a bad write up so as punishment, they'd made the papers look like a total fool. And even stranger than that, generally any band member in Roger's position wouldn't be as famous as he had become initially. It should've been the band's front man Guy. It wasn't.

All anyone ever spoke about was TTD's hot drummer. That happened to be Roger. Somehow he'd grown out of his dark, gloomy childhood features and matured into what many teenage girls and young women would call, quite bluntly, a God! Whilst Roger was incredibly close to his fellow band members, there's no doubt that there was tension between them since the first hit they made together.

The real problem was not the attention that Roger was getting in the looks' department – although that was a contributing factor – it was that whilst he was one of the most talented drummers in the world, he couldn't write music and was not a lyricist. So to most of the band members, they saw Roger as someone who sponged off their hard work – a User if you will. He didn't contribute to writing songs for the band because he simply couldn't.

In celebration of the next hit single, Minor And Major management had thrown the boys a huge party. But despite the attention he was getting, Roger didn't particularly want to go along. His solitary state had never really left him. In fact, you could say that TTD's debut album was named after him: Lone Wolf. More importantly, their first hit single could've easily been all about him entirely: Loner.

But anyway, Roger didn't really want to go tonight. But he had to. He was in a profession of expert arse-lickers, and he was definitely as good an actor as drummer in these matters. He turned up in a slick black suit that seemed to hold on him perfectly, his eyes burning into the camera lenses of the paps around him and his dark hair, with the odd blonde steak (nothing too conspicuous, but definitely a statement), pushed upwards. The epitome of the alternative rock God. All in all, he got the loudest volume of screams from the crowd.

Inside, he played his part well; he flirted with the female reporters having them subtly avert the subject they were initially asking him about and finally to a swift closing point. He posed with fans like they were family members and at about midnight slipped out the back unnoticed by the drunken mass inside, for his victory cigarette.

It was a disgusting habit, and he knew this and didn't really do it a lot. But after the news he'd received today, he thought it best to potentially smoke an entire packet. Not the success of te band, but something else. Not a Detective, but the head of Minor And Major himself. The conversation went something like this –

"Roger is that you?" asked Jack Stanger.

"Er, sorry pal, do I know you?" Roger said in his cool manner.

"This is your boss, Jack Stanger, from Minor And Major, actually," retorted Jack. As Roger was about to apologise for assuming it was some unimportant staff member or someone, Jack quickly added, "as in Jack," he paused, "Jack Merridew."

"Choir boy Jack?" Roger replied in a whisper.

"Yes."

Roger kept puffing away at his cigarette. He wasn't sure what had unnerved him more; the fact that he was going to go back to an island that couldn't remember much about other than demented painted faces and sticks sharpened at both ends, or that his main partner in crime as a boy was actually his agent. He thought it strange that he'd never met his boss before.

The rest of the band had, but Roger was either unable to attend or was ill. Or if he did try to talk to Mr S as it were, he could never get directly through. Did Choir Boy Jack know that it was Roger? He had no idea at all. But he kept puffing his cigarette as if nothing was wrong.

One thing that did start to become clear in his mind however was clear. He hadn't thought about his past much at all. Glimpses when he was really little and as a teenager. But never about the island. In truth he'd kind of forgotten about it. So had Jack. So had Ralph. So had the rest of them.


	4. Bill

**Slipping Into The Airwaves **

I own nothing except my OCs!

_On with the next chapter folks! Enjoy ;D _

**Second Chance **

"_**When you flew out of the nest, you made a mistake, flew all the way back, when you got back to your den, one minute too late, was already wrecked." – Peter, Bjorn and John**_

BILL

Bill wasn't living in New York at this point in time. He had decided to rent out his Condominium to his First Assistant, Second In Command and all time Best Friend Laine LaLaine. They had been a couple at Yale and although had split now they were always doing each other "small favours." This included playing house, renting each other's homes and of course if both were single at the same time, becoming time fillers for each other until they found a new partner.

But right now Bill was in his London apartment. His job as Editor In Chief of Times Magazine was pretty much hunky dory so he just wanted to kill some time in his original home town. Not with his family mind you, he'd estranged himself form them years ago. Right now he was preparing himself for the finale of a one night stand. The "kick out" of the standee. Bill was always the stander.

After he'd kicked out Maisie or Molly, he couldn't remember her name, he put on his Ralph Lauren polo and Armani gym shorts and headed on out to the gym. Needless to say, Bill was quite a catch and was famously a heartbreaker (coincidently, so was Jack. In fact had they had remained in touch, they could've been one hell of a dynamic duo – heads of businesses and top of their business ladders!)

After a few hours of swimming, running on the treadmill, weights and a few laps of the sports centre, Bill waltzed into the cafe and grabbed himself a protein shake, before heading back to his apartment for a shower, a quick sleep and then another night out, probably ending in another one night-er.

After he'd showered off, Bill wrapped the towel around his waist, flicked the blonde strands of hair out of his eyes – he reckoned it could do with a trim – and grabbed his mobile phone. He quickly texted his barber to come around later in order for him to get his hair trimmed up neatly again, before noticing he had around eleven missed calls from an unknown number. He ignored it, dried off and got into bed for an hour and a half.

On waking, Bill grabbed a toastie from the kitchen, changed into a white shirt and black skinnies and headed off, mobile phone in pocket. It kept buzzing every five seconds it seemed so he turned it off without bothering to see who it was. He was meeting with a few old friends from Eton tonight and he didn't want to be constantly disturbed by a great phone that never switched off.

Now, the strange thing is, despite separation form most of his old comrades, he'd kept very much in touch with two boys – now men - who had been with him at an incredibly weird point in his life that he couldn't really place any more. Those men were Henry Harrison and Harold Waters. They were fellow business men and heirs to various things. They were well kept, vain, obsessed with money and success and materialistic items and the three of them looked ready to pull.

They greeted each other as usual when they'd have a reunion like this and went inside the bar. Once seated with Peroni's all round and placed at the table, it was time for a DMC (Deep Meaningful Conversation.) "So," Henry said, "Jay Bill (Bill's nickname, his first and last name reversed) what's news?" Bill took a swig of his drink. "Oh you know, just another few million bucks in the bank, regular free stuff and one nighters with a few of 'em!"

He sounded, in fact all three did, totally arrogant. Which they were. Harold and Henry cheered at Bill's update. Ironically it was the same every time. Bill went up to the bar to get another round of drinks when he noticed a girl in short, mid sleeved, patterned dress. Her hair was long, brunette and clipped back off her face. She was sat by herself at a table with a Stella Artois and work folders. Some night out, Bill smirked to himself.

He believed that he was about to change all that.

"Watch me lads," he said slightly tipsy as he handed the drinks to Henry and Harold. He swaggered over to the girl introducing himself. She instantly looked up and her face brightened at the sight of him. He was very attractive. "My name's Bill," he said, "Bill Jay, editor of Times Magazine." The girl just stared at him before exclaiming, "Ah no way! My name's Marissa."

"Marissa what?" he pushed. "James," she replied holding out a hand for him to shake, "I'm a detective at Scotland Yard and am dealing with a pretty fucked up case, quite frankly." Bill was surprisingly interested. He was thinking with his balls and money. If this was an interesting case he could make a bit from fitting it in somewhere he supposed. Plus, Marissa James would make quite a bit and want to thank him for it of course!

"Well the thing is, it's really weird because it was like this body casually washed up onto the shore and authorities are super scared and the locals are suspicious. And to add to that tourists are fearing for their lives because Costa Rica is a family, holiday resort these days. This island being most popular!" Bill didn't think that Detectives should just spill details to someone they just met on a case; he figured she was more intoxicated that either knew.

"But the thing is, my department is tracking down these kids, now men, who were on that island as children, because there was some death or something," she explained, between sips of her beer. She was slurring her words a little now and Bill was getting a bit confused as to what she was saying; something about kids on an island and two or three casualties or something. He began to feel queasy, but wasn't entirely sure why. A distant voice could be heard in his head saying the most random of phrases, "We'll get fire from the others." He guessed he was more drunk than he thought.

After a couple of drinks, Bill and Marissa got up and started to head towards the dance floor, not before putting her folders behind the bar to keep them safe. The dancing was a little awkward as it usually is but when the shot trays were passed around everything became forward and open and nobody held back. To his right, Bill noticed Henry holding hands with another girl and taking her out of the bar, whilst to his left Harold was sitting with another girl and they were kissing in-between muttering something to each other. Every time, it made both of them begin to smile. Boring, Bill thought, it's the same thing every night with those H and H! Bill brought Marissa in close, wrapping his arms around her petite frame to bring her in for a kiss.

Of course she responded, deepening it. Her hands travelled irritatingly slowly up and down his spine. But then she pulled back and whispered into his ear, "Want to know a little something about me?" Bill laughed drunkenly. So did she. "Well," she began whispering seductively into his ear, "I know," she gently bit his earlobe, "who you are." Bill laughed into her neck. "Well, duh, most people do!" he said with a cocky edge.

"No," Marissa whispered, "I mean who you really are. You don't think I told you about my work case for nothing did you?" Despite his intoxicated state, he was still somewhat intrigued by this woman. "Well," she said, "I've already called up some of the others, but I believe that you were on that said island when you were what thirteen or so years old?" Bill suddenly moved his head to look at her. "What are you saying?"

"You were on the island as a boy. The one that burnt down," she said matter of factly. Marissa had deceived him. She wasn't drunk at all. "Now, I suggest you go back out there to help the other boys you were with back then identify the body." Bill inhaled sharply. Marissa pulled away like a business woman. "I'm glad I had this night out with you though Mr Jay. Please consider this. Ralph Remington, Jack Stanger and Roger Redman all have and I have yet others to phone up. If you want to ask Harold Waters and Henry Harrison please do invite them along."

With that, Detective Lieutenant Marissa James left the bar.


	5. Maurice

**Slipping Into The Airwaves **

I own nothing except my OCs!

_Here we go guys! Next chapter ;D _

**Curious **

"_**Imagine all Lennon had to say, to make us want to pray for peace every single day." – Emblem3**_

MAURICE

"And the next thing you know, I have to feel my way to the toilet," Maurice Evans said, sprawled out across Jay Leno's plush couch, "and you know everyone around me is like 'The man can't see, he's lost his sight, he's gone blind!' But when I fell to the floor, despite everyone commenting on my blindness this woman comes over and says, 'Sir, can you hear me?' "

An uproar of laughter echoed through the audience as Leno clapped his hands in humour. "And what did you say to that?" laughed Leno. Maurice laughed slightly; "Well I was just like, 'Er, I can hear you, I just can't see you!' " Another laugh from the audience.

Now for the average Joe, anyone else telling a story about going blind temporarily from drinking too much in one night would either have you thinking, "Geez what a douche!" or "Christ was he ok?" But in comedian Maurice Evan's case it was the funniest thing you could ever here in your entire life. Maybe just because he was a naturally funny guy, which he was. He was so full of character that he could make dust sound fun and entertaining and interesting.

As the show ended, Maurice left the stage on a high as he usually would after these things. It seemed fitting really that this is what he had amounted to. He'd always been smiling and laughing, finding very little boring or upsetting. He'd always had a goofy but contagious and quite attractive (or so he'd been told) smile, slightly bigger ears than the average and one eyebrow a little higher than the other. But most importantly he was a genuinely nice person.

Backstage, his wife of only six months called Claire stood clapping and smiling, once again proud of his success. They'd been dating for two years prior to their marriage and the magic was not lost. The only issue was that a horrible accident to his lower abdomen had actually left Maurice infertile. For a man of 25 it was quite distressing actually. But either way he had the fame, money, success and the beautiful girl, living together in a large ranch he had constructed and built himself in Northern California.

All in all, life was good. After posing with a few fans and signing some autographs Maurice and Claire drove away back to their hotel. Maurice was technically on holiday in New York, but being as famous as he at such a young age, he would always be busy thanks to his agent. On return to the hotel Claire went on ahead, as Maurice was swamped in stalker fans at the entrance to the hotel.

After about half an hour or so, Maurice wiped his brow and headed into the lift. His security guard stood by him. "Long night huh Maurice?" he asked casually. "Oh my God, you bet! But it's worse than this in England mind you!" Maurice laughed back.

"Ah your home town," the security guard said. "Of course, of course," said Maurice, "from Eton no less." The security guard furrowed his brow, "What's that?" Maurice laughed a little. "Oh it was my school. It was a private one, where the rich kids go. A lot of royalty and prime ministers of the UK went there you know. Mmm, I was in the school choir." The security guard laughed a little. It wasn't actually difficult to imagine Maurice as a little kid, all innocent singing in a choir.

"Aha, I know right," Maurice laughed along. When the lift reached his floor, he said goodbye to the guard and went into his room. "Claire," Maurice called. He heard the shower going. "I'm in the shower hun," she answered. "Ok then," he said. Maurice was knackered. But as he began to close his eyes, falling back on the bed, his phone started buzzing.

"Bloody hell, Monica what do you want now," he said aloud. Monica was his incredibly persistent agent, who's ethos was just keep working, don't stop even if your life depended on it. And when your relationships are in turmoil you know you've made it. But it wasn't Monica. The man on the end of the phone was one he hadn't heard of in quite a few years.

"Maurice? Maurice Evans?"

"Yes, this is he?"

"It's Bill."

"Choir Boy Bill? My Old Etonian Man? Well, I'll be damned! How are –"

"I'm fine Mo. Look, um, I have something to tell you. Erm, you see, a body washed up on the shores of the island and they need us to go there and investigate it."

Maurice was quiet.

"Maurice?"

"Yeah Bill I'm still here. I just, erm, I –"

"I know Maurice. Think about it."

"I will."

With that he hung up.


	6. Robert

**Slipping Into The Airwaves **

I own nothing except my OCs!

_On with another my friends! ;D_

**Bitter Sweet Symphony**

"_**Well it's a bitter sweet symphony that's life! Try to make ends meat, you're a slave to money then you die!" – The Verve**_

ROBERT

It seemed ironic that Robert should be working in a school. Even in his past memories of boyhood, he had been the teacher to Littluns and Biguns alike. And out of all the boys, he remembered his past the most. That's also probably what attracted him to the well paid position of Choir Master at Eton School. His old school, in which he was a chorister.

Unlike his old choir master who had ruled the choir with an iron fist – and who ironically was actually Head Chorister Jack's uncle – Robert Tanner was far more gentler with the boys. However, he still gained the required results from his pupils. And the trick seemed to be sheer kindness. Not so that the boys walked all over you but so they could trust and rely on you, and therefore come to respect you.

Something else though that Robert had to be proud and excited of was that he was getting married in a month's time. His girlfriend from Cambridge University who taught Art at Harrow School, Evangeline had pretty much fallen for Robert's pure angelic face from the moment she saw him. Oh if she only knew more of my past, Robert thought to himself often enough. He wasn't sure if either were ready to properly acknowledge that though.

They had both read History of Art at Uni but both had an interest in music. Robert who never lost his singing ability, and who could play piano, guitar and drums was also quite a talented song writer. In fact his song 'Face Painted Mask' gave the band Third Time Done their second consecutive hit single! However, the lead singer Guy Turner had paid Robert half a million pounds for him to take the credit as lyricist and for the band's guitarist Paul Gunn to say he wrote the music.

Robert was still fairly young and innocent to the ways of the working world, how people do one over you to push themselves further, and then leave you in the gutter to fend for yourself. But nowadays he regretted his actions of taking the money not fully understanding what he was buying into. He was much smarter now of course. But then he had needed the money a little to be able to pay for living fees. His parents valued independence even higher than family, education and ultimately a job.

Evie on the other hand was from a much more working class background to Robert, but received an offer to Cambridge on a scholarship! She was tough as nails and could be a little outspoken should she be insulted. However, she didn't sound common at all, had good polite manners (thanks to her mother's views on proper etiquette) and although Robert's mother didn't really like her, the rest of his family did. But most importantly Robert liked her.

She was pleasant to look at, in fact a lot of her male students no matter their age at Harrow had suggested that she was pretty. (Harrow is a boys' school, so they were all male!) She danced and played sport to pass the time as a child, so she was in fine shape and she had a classically British fashion sense.

On arriving home, Evie embraced him as she always did, hugging him tightly and kissing him gently. Robert then greeted the cheeky terrier puppy they had just adopted and then Evie and Robert sat down for dinner together. Evie was an exceptional cook; her pasta dishes were a family hit, even with Robert's mother! (Now that's saying something.)

"How was the choir today?" Evie asked. "Oh same old!" mused Robert, "excitable and boyish, obviously to begin with but then through the progression of the hour, they sing like little angels. And my, those tenors!" Evie laughed, "Well it is always difficult to find good tenors!" The couple laughed. Even just between the two of them they produced a lot of love in one room.

Just then the phone rang. "I'll get it," said Evie. "Oh be quiet," Robert laughed, "not with you carrying those plates around!" He beat her to it and picked up the phone.

"Robert Tanner, this better be good!"

"Hello, Mr Tanner, my name's Detective Lieutenant James and I have something which concerns you greatly. As a boy I believe you were marooned on an island, Costa Rico to be precise were you not?"

Robert swallowed nervously. "Yes, yes I was."

"Well a body washed up on the shore a week ago, it's not clear enough to identify but doesn't seem to be decomposing quickly which is a bit weird. I was hoping you and the others would come out and take a look at it. You know, to see if you can identify it."

Robert scratched the back his head nervously. "The o-others?"

"Yes," said the Detective, "the boys you were with."

After arranging travel details, Robert hung up the phone. "Robbie, are you ok?" asked Evie nervously twiddling her fingers. He nodded his head, but both knew he wasn't ok at all. With that he began gasping for breath, reaching to his throat and scratching it in a panic.

This was the beginning of a long line of asthma attacks.


	7. Samneric

**Slipping Into The Airwaves **

I own nothing except my OCs!

_And yet another chapter is up! ;D_

**Best Friend**

"_**When your best friend's all strung out, you'll do everything you can cause you're never gonna let them down." – Foster The People **_

SAMNERIC

A loud clatter came from inside Eric's room. "No! No! No!" he screamed. Sam was outside banging frantically on his bedroom door. Eric's wife Farrah was crying hysterically, repeating, "He's gone mad Sam! He's gone mad!" Farrah's twin sister, and incidentally Sam's wife Leigh, was trying to come her sister down.

After a few shoves, Sam managed to break down the door. The bed was overturned and a couple of lamps were smashed. Eric was holding his head, crying loudly, with his knees hugging his chest in a corner of the room. He knew exactly what the problem was.

Sam quickly turned to Farrah and his own wife Leigh. "Leave us for a second girls," he said rubbing their arms, "Just sit in the kitchen, have a cup of tea and relax," he said soothingly. Once he'd sat them down, he went back to Eric. "Eric," he said, "I know it's bad but was there really any need for this?"

"There is every reason for this Sam!" Eric burst, making Sam jump slightly, "and if you thinking straight you'd do the same and more." "I am thinking straight Eric," Sam replied flatly and I don't like this any more than you do."

He sat beside his brother pulling him into a tight hug, letting Eric sob into his own t-shirt. "I just can't bare it!" Eric cried, "you know, the thought of seeing him again!" Sam knew alright. Sam knew of the boy who plagued most of Eric's nightmares. Both boys remembered their twin boyhoods perfectly because during their last days on the island, they were tortured by two boys with long hair and painted faces, whose voices had once been the song of all angels and archangels.

But worst of all, one of those boys had done something so evil that the memory was more painful than the feeling of him doing it. And the worst thing was, the memory couldn't fade because the physicality of the trauma didn't fade. Even over fifteen or so years since then.

"There's a funny thing about twins you know Eric," Sam said as he rubbed Eric's back, "an indefinable connection so strong and binding between two people. For example we can feel each other's pain even if one of us is ok, and from miles away. We can sense when one is unhappy, too."

Eric pulled back and looked at Sam. "How the hell does this help me? That's the only thing therapists told me, and I swear I'm more messed up than I was before!"

"What I'm saying is that when he did that to you, I felt it just as much as when he did it to me too."

There was a silence between the two boys. Sam helped Eric to his feet and they both walked over to the large mirror on the wall. In unison as they'd done as boys many times before, they took off their shirts and rearranged themselves round. On the right of Sam's waist was a scratching of the letters R and O. On the left of Eric's read the letters G, E, R. Together, they spelt out ROGER.

In fifteen years all their other scars had faded away, but not these ones. Whatever Roger and the other Biguns had done to them had definitely never left the twins. They relived these awful memories every night in their separate London apartments. Their wives would wake up trying to soothe them when they'd wake up breathing heavily or shouting or crying.

And because of this, Farrah and Leigh had found out everything.

There was no way these boys would go back once they'd received the phone call. But then Sam thought of some awful reason why they should.

"Maybe though, we should go back. You know if Roger and the others go back, we can show them they haven't frightened us."

"But they have!" Eric cried.

"They don't have to know that. Apart from Ralph of course."

"Oh poor Ralph!" both the boys felt so awfully guilty for betraying Ralph but then if you tortured as they were you'd tell on him as soon as possible.

The boys put their shoes on and made a mental agreement on whether they should go or not.


	8. Old Flames

**Slipping Into The Airwaves **

I own nothing except my OCs!

_And yet another one! Thanks for the reviews my lovelies ;D xxxxx_

**Hunters**

"_**Are you hunting still? Are you still on my side?" – Parades **_

RALPH

Ralph was the first of them to depart from an airport on a plane, anywhere in the world. He slept for most of the way to the half way point which separated outsiders from the island. However, whenever he was awake, he cried. Not like the crazy man on the back seat of a bus kind of thing. He sat there looking straight ahead, focussing on the back of the seat in front of him.

And every now and then a tear would casually roll down his cheek. Fortunately it was a night flight, and most of the people were too tired to notice him, although he was in first class seating so not many people were there at all really.

Even though he was crying he wasn't quite sure of what in particular. He hadn't thought about his childhood in years and a lot of it was as if someone had drawn a veil over his eyes after he left. Slowly he had forgotten everything almost. But he knew one thing for sure: a boy with fiery red hair, piercing eyes that seemed to bear into you challengingly and the remains of a black cap on his head and tattered shorts around his legs. Joseph or James or something.

Ralph found it strange how he could remember his appearance but not his name.

But then another thing came to mind; the image of a larger boy with funny round specs and hair that was wispy and didn't really seem to grow. Ralph hadn't thought about Piggy in years, but he could now remember him clearly. Always bragging about his Auntie and Ass-mar. Sucks to you ass-mar, Ralph thought cynically, sucks to your auntie, sucks to them all.

Ralph knew Piggy didn't make it, but again like so many other events that had occurred back then, couldn't place how it happened. For a moment, Ralph had a strange vision passing through his mind. He imagined a dead body washed up on a beach, nobody bothered with it and everyone acted like it was non-existent. But in its left hand were a pair of funny round specs.

When he arrived at the terminal for the ferry over to the island, Ralph absent mindedly sat in the chair closest to the exit. When he'd finished taking out his boarding ticket and passport he looked up to see a man with perfectly trimmed hair, a straight narrow nose and creamy skin. Anyone else wouldn't have been interested, but Ralph was.

And then this person looked at him. And there was no mistaking that the stranger's eyes were piercing, bearing into him. Ralph had another vision now. Of that fiery haired boy with the piercing eyes and a name swam back and through his mind: Jack.

JACK

All in all, the flight had been a pleasant one. Jack Stanger had flown first class and if he was nervous or upset he didn't act like it. And as usual, he had succeeded in chatting up an airline hostess! Seemed he was still up to his old tricks even now. But then again, he wasn't really ok with going back at all. It was probably a time filler. Maybe even a test to see, amidst the fear of the unknown, if he still had IT.

He was the first to get there. He sat patiently reading a book which seemed incredibly ironic and relatable to his childhood; it was called The Coral Island. He had packed relatively lightly. In fact from a boy with a multitude of freckles and black heads, who was ugly without silliness, puberty had worked wonders on him. It was obvious now, as the others would shortly find out, why on that island – now a holiday resort – most of the female travellers turned to look at him as he walked past.

He was muscular with creamy skin and with his money he could finally take care of crazy hair growth on his head and face. He was dressed in grey khaki pants and a thin white vest shirt. To the average passenger he looked like any other tourist – just richer and probably better looking.

Jack was at ease. But that was when the door opened and another companion joined him. He recognised the man instantly. The stranger didn't notice Jack at first. But Jack sure noticed him. The stranger had watery grey eyes, high attractive cheekbones and spiked up dirty blonde – borderline brown – hair. He was dressed in similar clothing to Jack and was equally muscular. But then again Ralph always had been .

One thing Jack learned then that he liked about Ralph was that he was consistent!

Ralph eventually stopped faffing with his bags and looked up, immediately meeting Jack's penetrating gaze. He knew Ralph had recognized him and now it was just the two of them in a sealed off room. Jack was scared and he could tell that equally Ralph was scared.

"Oh," was all Ralph could manage. Jack felt like a littlun. "Does this mean we have to start fighting?" he thought himself to be so childish and idiotic and was prepared for the worst from Ralph. He guessed that Ralph was equally prepared because he was clenching his fists. Out of anger or nerves, Jack couldn't decide. The two boys looked at each other but not challengingly, more out of curiosity as to what the other would do. They might've been men in their twenties but they felt more like twelve year olds again. Although Jack was about thirteen or fourteen or so at the time.

"No, we don't have to fight, Jack" Ralph replied calmly. Jack relaxed slightly. "So um how have you been Ralph?" Jack asked gulping a little. What a pathetic conversation attempt at this moment, Jack thought. "Good I suppose. Yourself?" Jack was surprised that Ralph didn't seem to think so.

"I'm fine."


	9. The Boy With The Birthmark

**Slipping Into The Airwaves **

I own nothing except my OCs!

_I'm on point today so here's another! ;D _

**The Wolf**

"_**And you once said, I wish you dead, you sinner. I'll never be more than the wolf at your door for dinner." – Phildel**_

RALPH

Ralph couldn't believe how he and his old arch nemesis were having a casual conversation in a waiting room to take them back to their island of nightmares – or for Jack probably island of paradise, Ralph wasn't sure.

When they'd first landed, Ralph remembered, the island was like a garden of Eden like he'd learnt at the Sunday School after mass in Bible Studies. But just like the garden of Eden it had turned into anything but the safe, beautiful, free haven he'd initially thought it to be. A serpent in the grass was lurking. *The Beast* The words flashed through his mind and seemed to stab at his frontal lobes. He fell forward of his chair clutching at his face.

"You ok?" Jack asked bending down to help Ralph back to his seat. "Yeah," Ralph replied, trying to bear the pain through gritted teeth, "Just some old ghosts came back to me just then!" He laughed nervously as if a shamed that he couldn't remember everything fully. "Ghosts? Maybe it's –" Jack paused as if unsure of himself. "-The Beast?" Ralph helped him along a little.

Suddenly Jack fell backwards clutching his chest and writhing on the floor in total agony. His cries were spine tingling. Ralph bent down to his. "Jack? Jack!" Jack growled a little, "Cut it out! Cut it out!" That was when Ralph saw it. Blood was leaking out onto Jack's pristine white shirt. Ralph pulled away in shock before recomposing himself and ripping off Jack's shirt. To his horror, Ralph saw three claw marks drawing themselves into Jack's skin.

"What the-" Jack looked up at him and started to sit up as if the pain was calming down. "Jesus! What the hell is that?" he cried through gritted teeth. Ralph was stunned "I don't know Jack, I don't know."

But there was one thing Ralph really was sure of and that was there really was no monster on the island. But he didn't know exactly what this was but had a blood-curdling thought that maybe when they left, they had created something. A force that was only true to them, but working against them as it seemed to be now.

A security guard came into the room. "Are you Ok Sir? The CCTV showed you on the floor! Everything Ok now?" Ralph couldn't believe it. It wasn't Ok now! But this security guard clearly couldn't see the blood and claw marks on Jack's chest. If this was some kind of force or entity that they'd created now working against them, they were the only ones that could see it.

JACK

Jack sat up gasping for air. After the security guard left, he exchanged a nervous glance with Ralph. "The security guard couldn't see it could he?" Jack said slowly to Ralph. "No, he couldn't," said Ralph in reply.

Ralph started to explain what he thought this was. Jack suddenly broke down at the explanation.

"Oh Jesus, this is all my fault!" he cried, head in his hands, shaking violently. "Huh?" Ralph was surprised by jack's sudden guilt. "It's my fault, I decided to scare everyone with the Beast so they'd do as I said! I mean, I did believe it kind of but they respected me when I used it. And I –"

He screamed out in pain clutching his face as Ralph had done before continuing, "I knew that was Simon! I knew it wasn't the beast and yet I -"

His head and chest and throat felt like they on fire. The man had lost his mind now. But maybe this is what the Beast had wanted all the time.

When the pain subsided, Jack noticed random bloodstains all over the floor. "I'm sure that no one will clear the floor tonight. They can't see the blood," said Jack. But that's when he noticed Ralph beginning to stand up. "What?" he asked. "Jack, you only bled out onto this part of the room, why are there patches on the walls over there?" Jack turned to look at the walls.

As Ralph said, blood was blotched over the white walls. And then they heard the door creak open and slam shut again. Both boys stood up. They felt young, immature and afraid little boys again so that's what they'll be called now.

The boys heard light footsteps around them as if circling them and like a flash a figure had materialised before their very eyes. It was a little boy, just staring at them like he was a littlun. Both boys saw familiarity in him. He was wearing the remains of burnt and tattered school uniform and had his thumb in his mouth. His hair was straw like and his eyes were brown, wide open and filled with terror.

He had a gash one side of his face, all red and bloodied. And then Jack noticed the resemblance. It was the boy with the birthmark.


	10. Relighting The Fire

**Slipping Into The Airwaves **

I own nothing except my OCs!

_Here we go again ;D_

**Nobody's Listening**

"_**Tried to give you warning but everyone ignores me, told you everything loud and clear, but nobody's listening!" – Linkin Park**_

RALPH

The boy with birthmark pulled his thumb out of his mouth and began to speak. "It's all your fault," he said, his lips trembling as if on the edge of tears, "all your fault!" He began to cry. Ralph wasn't sure what to do, so he went down on his knee like he used to when consoling and comforting a littlun who'd had a nightmare or spoke of the beast.

"What's your name?" he asked. Suddenly a rhythmic chant around him appeared crying out "What's your name? What's your name? What's your name?" Ralph suddenly remembered when a small boy, full of self confidence for his age, cradling something in his arms had said, "Percival Wemys Madison, The Vicarage, Harcourt, St Anthony."

And in order for Ralph to learn that he had to shout at the boys to quieten them down, so he did that now. "Quiet all of you!" And they were. Whatever they were. "What's your name?" The boy stopped crying and said, "Micheal." Ralph nodded. "What happened to you?" Ralph asked.

Micheal started to whimper again as he spoke and pointed to Jack, "he pushed me out of his way when you were running from the mountain and I fell into the fire!" Ralph was stunned, slowly he turned to Jack, who looked like he was in some kind of trance.

Ralph then turned back to Michael. Around them all, they could here sounds of a burning fire. Both Jack and Ralph began to sweat, there was heat engulfing them from all around. "Jack, you never told –" Ralph was cut off short. "What was there to tell?" Jack screamed trying to open the door to get out. "But what does it matter now, huh? We're both gonna die anyway!"

But then the noise and heat disappeared. Micheal had gone and the blood stains had all been cleared away. "What the-" Jack looked around. "I dunno," replied Ralph dumbly, "but I think it was a warning."

"What do you mean Ralph?"

"I mean, whatever entity we made doesn't want us around here. I get the impression it knows something we don't: how to destroy it. The problem being we don't know that, but it's worried we'll find it." Ralph paused. "I don't think that body washed up here by coincidence, honestly you know. Besides a body of one of our kills would've, it should've decomposed years ago, and not a little bit – I mean fully."

JACK

Things were starting to make sense now to Jack. He knew that if he wanted to remain sane he'd have to work with Ralph. They'd have to do something. For the first time in fifteen years now, Jack Merridew was bent double.

ROGER

Roger had pretty much strutted through the airport, ignoring the stares and gasps of, "Uh! I know him! He's form TTD! He's the drummer! My, he's gorgeous!" It sure was an ego boost for him, and right now, he felt like he definitely needed one.

Roger had slept on the plane – first class of course. It had been a night flight anyway. On his way on and off the plane, the air hostesses had swooned at the sight of him, but he'd pretty much ignored them. He was in his own little world, consumed in his thoughts which were currently occupied by a sharp voice, commanding him to "Sharpen a stick at both ends." He couldn't exactly place it, but he was pretty sure the voice had once been able to sing at least a C Sharp.

On entering the terminal for the ferry to the island, Roger found Jack and Ralph staring around the room blankly, standing in the centre of it, looking like they'd just seen something horrid or been reminded of something. On entering the room, Roger had felt sick. It was such a contrast from how he'd just felt and he felt goosebumps rise on his flesh.

He looked at what Ralph and Jack had become. Both were handsome and well dressed and muscular. Although Jack was shirtless with cuts over his chest. At his feet was a white shirt covered in blood.

"Christ, you two haven't tried to kill each other already have you?" Roger said raising an eyebrow. Both Jack and Ralph took in Roger's appearance. To put it bluntly, both boys would've turned for him, as in turning over to the other team! Roger Redman had gone from being a shaggy haired, gloomy faced loner, to one who was a thing of sheer beauty. He had already started to intimidate and he'd only just arrived a couple of minutes ago.

"What?" he asked coyly. Jack approached him and drew him into a hug in which both boys slapped each other on the back. "Alright boss," Roger said in a cockney accent. Jack laughed a little. Ralph piped up, "you're his boss?" "Oh yeah, still haven't filled each other in on work detail yet," said Jack casually. Roger laughed a little. But it wasn't like back then. It was light and almost welcoming.

"How have you been," Roger asked awkwardly. He felt exposed around Ralph; one thing that never left him was the deaths of Simon and Piggy. Partly because he had played a big part in them. He had told everyone that Simon was the beast and had pulled the lever on Piggy at castle Rock. His mind wondered to the fortress; was it even still there?

The three sat down and Ralph asked, "How much do you two even remember?"


	11. In Pursuit

**Slipping Into The Airwaves **

I own nothing except my OCs!

_Roll on the next! ;D_

**Waiting For The End (Part 1)**

"_**I know what it takes to move on, I know how it feels to lie. All I want to do is trade this life for something knew; holding on to what I haven't got!" – Linkin Park **_

ROGER

"Honestly, very little," Jack was the first to answer. Ralph nodded the same.

Then it was Roger's turn.

"Nothing except Simon and –" He paused and inhaled nervously, "-Piggy."

Roger looked like he was about to throw up; his face paled and tears clambered into his eyes. Everything was overwhelming and he was seeing clearer than he had in years.

"Do you remember the beast? That shell thing?" Jack asked.

"The fire on the mountain? That little boy we couldn't find? You lot trying to kill me?" Ralph continued.

"The huts? The other choir boys?" Jack added.

"Maybe the Littluns?" Ralph said.

Roger screamed suddenly making Jack and Ralph jump. "Shut up! Shut up! I don't know what you two are talking about!"

The other two boys looked up at Roger who, even on the brink of madness and insecurity it seemed could still be compared to that of a god! "You keep talking about beasts, and shells and huts and things but I can only remember murdering two other guys who I can't even visually remember in my mind properly. I mean it was like I'm slowly being blinded by something – it's all cloudy and foggy up here," he said motioning to his head, "and I can't do this. Please just chill for me right now! I mean what is even going on?" Tears were streaming down his face which was a little red and blotchy and he was frantically tugging at his hair as if it would give an answer.

RALPH

Ralph began to realise something; at the time of his rescue he felt that he was a victim along with Piggy and Simon, whom thanks to Roger, he began to remember more vividly. Actually Jack and Roger, who seemed to be the epitome of all that was bad, the serpent in the Garden of Eden, were equally victims as he was. They didn't just suffer like he did – they regretted things. They would have to live with things in a different society to the one they had built on that island for the rest of their lives.

And if they had forgotten, like Ralph, the past would find a way of re-surfacing and come back to haunt them.

But then, Ralph thought, freedom, or the illusion of freedom in our case, always has a cost doesn't it?

"It's ok Roger," Ralph said from where he was stood, watching Jack trying to console Roger. Jack looked up at Ralph and gave a small smile and, well Roger wasn't the smiley type anyway – never had and never will be – but he looked up with a light expression on his face.

"I forgive you, you know," Ralph said suddenly, "if there is something we need to get rid of we need to work together and for that we'll need to be at our best, both physically and mentally. We need each other."

Jack and Roger looked taken aback.

"The thing is, seeing you like this Rogde, has shown me that you've both suffered equally as me." He paused. "I mean, what else is there to do."

It was then that for the first time in just over fifteen years, these three people, once at loggerheads and each other's throats quite literally, were united.

JACK

"I know patience has never been one of my virtues," Jack said agitatedly, "but when are the others gonna get here?"

"I think we should go on without them," said Ralph. This man is full of surprises with what he has to say today, thought Jack. "I mean, we'll all be on the same island together in the end right. And besides I have a feeling about something else: I don't think we've all arrived this far yet."

Jack knew what Ralph meant. All day, he'd had a feeling when someone had touched down at the airport. And he had a feeling he knew exactly who would walk through the door at what moment. It was more the shock of actually having to see the person again for the first time in fifteen years which took him back.

"Well that's settled," he declared in his trademark authoritive voice, "we'll go now, otherwise who knows how long we'll be here and with what exactly!"

Roger and Ralph agreed. They quickly gathered their bags up and headed for the island.


	12. A Haunting

**Slipping Into The Airwaves **

I own nothing except my OCs!

_Thank you to WhiteCloudsAndOceans – so supportive and buzzing with nice ideas; plus your stories are great! ;D _

**Waiting For The End (Part 2)**

"_**Waiting for the end to come, wishing I had strength to stand. This is not what I had planned. It's out of my control." – Linkin Park**_

As the boys got off the boat, it was as if a veil was now lifted. They could see their past more clearly than ever. It had become so that it was almost that they were almost watching themselves on playback on a camcorder or in a film.

It was in pristine condition and the images of their past were clear. Roger was the first to express his excitement at the remembrance. He started to sing, "Kyrie Kyrie Kyrie Eleison, Kyrie..." Suddenly he was joined by a harmonising voice. Then they stopped.

"I remember," Roger said to no one in particular as he stood on the white sandy beach, now with a small littering of sun worshippers. "The choir, we walked along this beach because Jack, you said 'No matter where we are, we're English and we are Etonians. We wear both of those things with pride.' So we sang. I knew it was because we thought it was an adult man blowing the conch. We wanted to make an impression. And in one way or another I think we did."

Jack and Ralph looked at each, relieved that they could two remember.

"Looking back on it," Roger continued, "it was us, the choir I mean, who turned everything upside down. You see at school things were so strict and competitive almost that we wanted freedom. And part of that was all those terrible things we did that we could never do back home."

Ralph suddenly joined in the reminiscing, "We all thought you were a big black monster, the way you were all huddled together and moving as one. I had the conch. And Piggy, he was next to me trying to look over me because he was too short to properly see past me."

Jack joined in, "And I wanted so desperately to be chief. Do you remember why I said I should be?" He said this next bit with a light smile. All three boys said this at the same time: "I'm chief chorister and head boy. I can sing C sharp!" They all laughed.

It seemed so nice to be carefree again. But the three exchanged a look. This is how it had all started off before things ran down on the island. They had a horrible gut feeling that something somewhere would drive a steak through the heart of their new found unity.

-X-

As the boys walked along the beach, they'd noticed up ahead all the rocky terrain. Castle Rock was most certainly still there alright. The vegetation as deep green and lush looking. No one would've known it had all been burnt down. Well not by them anyway.

The three boys in the prime of their lives, all three in their early twenties, successful and handsome were attracting a lot of attention from the females of the island. Jack, Ralph and Roger were all regaining tans quickly – their skin was probably well acclimatised by now. Ralph and Roger had decided to join Jack in the shirtless aspect of life and their khaki pants were loose around their hips.

It was truly something form out of a music video almost. And it was nice. Even Ralph who was married liked the extra attention. However, he was a little less confident than the other two boys. He noticed how the other two strutted with the knowledge that they were something, that they handsome, but because of this could make themselves untouchable. Ralph knew he matched up to this too, but was just a little more humble about things.

When the three men went to the bar at the other end of the island, they decided to sit down in the centre, so they drew all the attention in the looks department but most importantly could all have a good catch up.

"So Ralph, you first, how's things with you?" Jack said. "Oh things are great! My boys' adventure stories seemed to have sky rocketed more than myself or anyone else would've thought. And my book Seas Of Gold is being made into a film, for which I'm writing the screenplay I might add!"

Jack looked at him; "My company is producing the soundtrack to that film!" Ralph was shocked. "No you're not!" he exclaimed. "Yes I am - can't believe I didn't make that connection though; Ralph Remington!"

"My wife Stella is singing for the soundtrack and has written a couple actually," Ralph continued. Jack once again cut him off: "Your wife is Stella? My God, she's signed to my agency/record label Minor and Major, who Roger's band Third Time Down is also signed to!" Roger smiled, "Guilty as always!" He glugged some more beer down.

Neither Jack nor Roger it turned out were in a relationship – they were like the stereotypical bachelor boys of the world. Go out, get a bit tipsy, pretend they were more drunk than they were and pull a girl!

"And we all know that Roger has been on the cover of GQ how many times?" Ralph laughed. It was true; Roger Redman – the island's signature sadist and second in command only to Jack – was now number two on the list of the most desirable men in the world. One thing all three had in common however was that none had children, were all unusually unsuccessful at relatively young ages and were all here again now, sipping beer at a bar on their place of nightmares.

Jack was the first to make this connection. "But if you think about it really, is it any kind of coincidence that we don't have kids, whether or not we actually wanted them?" Ralph thought for a moment and considered this. "Stella and I have been trying, both before and after the wedding and still nothing. We've had tests and we're told we're fine, but still nothing."

Roger sighed and said, "One of the islands other casualties." The other two boys looked at him. They wouldn't be surprise if the stress and trauma of the island fifteen years ago had affected all of them in more ways than the obvious one.

"Look, enough worrying and reminiscing," said Ralph – which was a surprise in itself as the last time he was here he was all for assemblies and thinking and pondering on things. "The night's getting on, it'll be dark soon, and in case you lads hadn't noticed, this is a holiday resort now – it's in full swing!" Jack and Ralph shared a smile before the three boys clinked their beer bottles in celebration.

-X-

Eventually, all three boys had let their hair down and were in the midst of a dance with all the other party-going tourists. Everyone dancing was fenced off by strings of coloured lights and decoration in the shape of a circle. Everyone had then formed their own smaller groups within the circle – generally the groups who had come on holiday all together.

The boys had attracted a lot of attention, so it was no wonder that there group occasionally got a little bigger when other girls joined the dance! It was a clear night and the stars were out in full swing. The music was loud and heavy but Ralph's ears didn't seem to be affected. Maybe it was the high quantity of alcohol and liquor affecting his senses.

But as the night went on, the three boys seemed to wind down somewhat. This whole scene seemed so familiar to them. Except last time, there were no girls with them or liquor to get them going. They all boys in the remains of tattered school clothes – some not even that – the majority in face paint, all with long hair and grubby faces and bodies. And all it took then was the sheer force of frenzy, the fear of the beast and the promise of a hunt to get them going.

But then Roger moved over to the two boys and said, "I need some time." He staggered out of the circle and seemed to almost attempt to get towards something. He was reaching out his arms as if in protection or explanation. Jack and Ralph edged closer to see what Roger was up to. In front of them, they saw a small body running along the beach, waving its arms about frantically.

It ran closer, and the closer it got, the more the boys could make out: the body belonged to that of a small boy. It was dark but they figured he had olive skin. As the boy ran past, he locked eyes with Roger, but didn't stop running past. Roger fell to the ground trembling for he knew very well who that boy was. They had had to share a hymn book many a time in choir as children. With the brown eyes and dark hair, it was Simon all the way.


	13. Newcomers

**Slipping Into The Airwaves **

I own nothing except my OCs!

_Ooh, the boys are seeing ghosts! On with the next one... ;D_

**Pompeii**

"_**I was left to my own devices, many days fell away with nothing to show. And the walls kept tumbling down in the city that we love. Great clouds roll over the hills bringing darkness from above." – Bastille**_

THE HOMECOMING KINGS

The next morning, the boys awoke to find themselves in the same room, sprawled out in some place, in some way. Ralph was occupying the floor space, Jack was half on half off the bed and Roger had fallen asleep in the doorway separating the room from the bathroom. They all woke up at the same time – approximately ten in the morning.

"It's Bill," said Choir Boy Jack, casually flicking through his phone. "What he told you he was here?" Roger asked. "No," Ralph answered for Jack, "he had a feeling. So did I, but not Bill; it's two other boys who were in the choir I think. They were definitely Biguns."

Roger nodded, "Harold and Henry."

The boys stumbled around their room with aching faces and heavy heads trying to unpack clean clothes. Once again they had seemed to remain colour coordinated in thin light blue v neck shirts and crop trousers of some different shade of denim. They then raked fingers through their hair, washed their muggy faces in cold water and put on their sandals and flip flops before making their way down to breakfast. Perhaps even to meet the newcomers.

They sat down at a table and started shovelling down yoghurt and fruit with glasses of ice cold water and cups of coffee. It was then that Jack looked up and turned to face the bar. There was a man with perfectly groomed blonde hair, a wide smile and dimples, in a thin shirt which showed off his muscles perfectly, chatting up a girl in a light blue sundress.

It was then that the man noticed Jack looking at him. "Excuse me," he said to the girl, "Choir Boy Jack?" Jack stood up from his chair. "Choir Boy Bill?"

Bill put his drink on the table and pulled up a chair and very awkwardly sat next to Ralph. Ralph guessed why. "Bill, it's alright you know," he said trying to lighten the mood. That wasn't the best opening, he thought.

"How are things Bill?" Roger said quietly trying to lighten the mood further. He felt like kicking himself for saying that. It was then that Bill recognised him but not as a boy. "Roger Redman," he said in pure shock, "w-what are you doing here? How do you two know the drummer from TTD?"

Ralph and Jack shared a look and laughed. "Bill you really don't remember him, other than from TTD?" Jack said.

Bill looked at Roger again, trying to work out who the man with the well sculpted face really was. "You, you were in the choir with us!" Roger nodded, "Mmm-hmm, but what do you actually remember about me?" Bill gasped, "Choir boy Roger! My god you've changed so much, I can't believe I didn't put two and two together that you were here, I knew you from choir, and hell your name's Roger!"

The three other boys laughed at Bill, before Bill found himself joining in. Bill hadn't pictured their reunion like this, the four of them at breakfast together having a laugh the minute he got there.

"I kind of didn't think it would be like this," he said nervously, "you know I kind of thought we'd be at each other's throats." "Same," the other three replied. "We spent a large portion last night getting well acquainted," said Ralph flatly, probably due to the hangover, but also to the memory of Simon on the beach and the events in the waiting room.

The boys slowly and monotonously filled Bill in on the events and Ralph gave his opinion on the Beast: "I think when we left, all we did created something that we can't fight without each other. But whatever it is I think it's afraid of us, you know? It wouldn't be trying to scare us away if it wasn't."

Bill thought about this. It sure was preferable. He began to shiver a little out of nerves, but then realised that the room was actually pretty cold. "Do you guys feel that?" he asked a little unsettled. But what Bill saw next thoroughly frightened him. Over in the corner of the room was an ordinary breakfast table ladened with food like theirs was. But it was the person sitting at that table who was wrong.

As far as Bill was concerned, Piggy died two days before they were rescued.

It was then that the boys knew what Bill was looking at. They began to stand up when Roger urged them all to sit down, "Remember no one else can see this. If you start standing up in fear everyone's gonna think you're mad." Quickly Jack and Ralph sat down but Bill clearly didn't hear Roger's warning. It resorted to Ralph pulling Bill back into his chair. But never did the boys take their eyes off that table.

Piggy sat there guzzling down his food. He was in school uniform but more like when they first arrived – fairly neat and clean. He was wearing his specs.

But then he stopped eating and seemed to get the notion the boys were looking at him. He put his knife and fork down and turned to look at the four other boys. His appearance had changed in a split instant. He looked more like he did in his final days on the island. His specs were broken and cracked, his hair dishevelled and wispy. He was burnt over his shoulders and had tattered uniform on it.

Ralph began to cry when he saw Piggy stand and noticed a trickle of blood from his head drip down his face. When Piggy turned to tuck his chair in like they'd all had to do at school, they noticed a huge bloodstain forming on his back, seeping onto his shirt. He left the restaurant casually.

A few moments after before the four had enough time to process what had just happened, Harold and Henry walked in looking like they had just seen a ghost. Like they had just seen Piggy.


End file.
